I bolt upright, staring at him with wide eyes, and startling him a bit. “That was you?” I ask, bewildered. There’s just no way.
“What do you mean?” he looks confused.
“I remember dropping that cake.”
He smiles, pleased. “You ran off crying. I followed you, since you went into my room.” I get an eyebrow for that. “For some reason you went in there to pout. You were more upset about not getting to eat the cake than you were about your mother yelling at you,” he chuckles lightly at that.
Sitting back on my haunches, I inch towards him on the bed until my knees are touching his thigh. With my hand covering my mouth, I speak through my fingers. “You sat me on your lap.” I cannot believe that was him. “And ran your hands down my hair while I cried before you kissed my cheek and said—”
“Don’t worry, Katie,” he interrupts, repeating what he said to me that day. “When we’re old and married, I’ll buy you cake whenever you want.”
I nod, so totally mystified. “Yes. How was that you?”
He laughs. “What’s the big deal? You’re looking at me like I’m a ghost, or a figment of your imagination or something.”
“Dude,” I reach out and smack his shoulder. “Because you basically are.” I can’t get over this. I crawl onto his lap so I’m straddling his thighs, his hands automatically come up to grasp my hips. “Your hair was lighter,” I run my fingers through his dark strands. “And when we left your house, I cried a lot. I told my mother that I had met a prince and since I couldn’t remember your name, I called you Peter.”
He laughs lightly, smiling a lot. He likes this story. “Peter?”
“Yup. You reminded me of Peter Parker for some reason, but I was heavy into princesses at the time, so I thought you were my prince. I held onto that, onto you, for a very long time.”
“Really?” He’s having trouble believing me.
“Promise. But as time went by, you became more of an imaginary friend than a memory or a real person, but you always saved me.” I lean forward to kiss his lips softly, before pulling back and resting my head against his hard chest. His hand runs down my hair, much the way it had that day twenty-one years ago.
“I begged my mother every day to have you come and visit us, or to have us go see you.” The sound of his speaking vibrates through his chest into my ear. His heart beat a steady staccato. “I was ten, and you were only six, but I couldn’t get you out of my head,” he lets out a shaky breath, my head rising and falling with the effort. “I saw you again when I was twenty-two, and you were eighteen.”
I sit up in his lap, staring him in the eyes. “What?” I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. “When?”
He smiles, but his eyes are hesitant, nervous even. “It was my last semester at school and I was returning to Boston from a weekend at home. My mother had given me a package of some kind to deliver to your mother, so I went to your house to drop it off.” My mouth pops open. “I rang the bell, and no one was home, so I left the box on the front step, when a car pulled into the driveway. A girl with dark hair was driving, and when you stepped out of the car, our eyes met, and you smiled at me.” He runs his hand across my cheek and through my hair tenderly. “The second I saw you, my breath caught in my chest.” A small smile curls the corners of his lips and his eyes sparkle, full of memories. “I couldn’t even speak. It was like I had been stunned. I knew who you were instantly, and I figured you wouldn’t recognize me, but just as I was about to call out to you, a guy—who I assume was Eric—got out of the car and diverted your attention away from me. He put his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a quick kiss, and any nerve I had died right there.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just sit here and stare at him in quiet disbelief.
“I was almost done with school and I knew I’d be leaving Boston. You were only eighteen, not even graduated from high school yet, and you clearly had a boyfriend. So I left without speaking to you, even though I really wanted to.” He leans forward to kiss my lips, pulling back to rest his forehead against mine for only a moment. “You stayed with me after that day, again,” he emphasizes. “One way or another, Katie, you’ve been on my mind since I was ten years old. That’s why when my mother told me you were leaving Boston, driving across the country, and were willing to take me, I called you. I debated it, believe me, I did. I knew what you’d been through. That you’d lost Eric and Maggie,” he grimaces a little as he says their names, like he’s afraid of hurting me.
It does hurt. It always will, but I need to start being okay with that hurt instead of always running from it.
“But I also knew that if I didn’t at least contact you and see what your situation was, I’d always regret it.” He leans forward, dropping his forehead to mine again. “And Katie? I’m so fucking happy I made that call. Whatever happens—or doesn’t happen for that matter—I’ll never regret these weeks with you.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper before I can stop the words.
“I know, baby. Me too.”
“I don’t know what to do, Ryan. I really don’t.”
He cups my cheek, holding me in place so I have to meet his eyes. “We don’t have to decide anything now. We can just continue on and see where we end up. I don’t want to pressure you, Katie. I don’t. I’m in this no matter the outcome, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what I’m hoping for,” he sighs out. “But I’ll take what I can get with you. Even if it’s just friendship. I’m okay with that. I just want you around.”
I have no answers. I’m all unknowns and paradoxes.
So I kiss him. I run my fingers through his beard and I kiss him hard. Telling him with my lips what I can’t with my words.
“Katie,” he whispers against me reverently. I love it when he does that. He groans, running his hands through my hair and down my back to the top of my bottom, where he freezes.
I’m tired of all these rules.
I’m tired of a lot lately, but I know in my soul that I’ll never find another man like Ryan. If I’m going to sleep with anyone else again, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather do that with than him. Reaching up, I pull my shirt over my head, making him gasp.
“Katie?” This time it’s a question.
My fingers find his hair again. “I want you to touch me, Ryan.”
His eyes turn into twin pools of heat and he swallows hard. “Are you sure?”
I take his hands away from the back of my hips and place them on my lace-covered breasts, eliciting a moan from both of us. “Jesus, Katie.”
His mouth finds mine again and he gets to work with his hands on my chest. I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, letting the straps fall from my shoulders before taking it off and tossing it aside.
Then Ryan loses it.
I’m on my back on the bed before I can even process how I got there. His mouth and hands find me. My lips, my neck, my chest, my nipples. The pads of his thumbs roll across my nipples as he squeezes my breasts. I moan. So loud. My head falls back and my eyes shut. I’m so close already. His mouth takes over, nipping and sucking and even biting lightly.